


The Only Man That Never Leaves

by ConsultingTimeLord



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's companions keep leaving him but the Master always seems to return. Dark!Eleven/Cumberbatch!Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Man That Never Leaves

Darkness drowned the TARDIS console room with only a small light emanating from the central column. It used to shine with the energy of a sun but now it shone with a weak, sickly, orange glow. It flickered like a flame, causing shadows to dance along the walls. The setting unnerved the Master as he pushed open the front door with a resonating creak. The room seemed empty but the silence was pregnant with unheard breathing and unsaid words. The Master knew he wasn’t alone even though he couldn’t see the other being.

The Master, the new Master, was still adjusting to his body. He was taller, but wore it gracefully, with prominent cheekbones and curly ginger hair. The new form wasn’t traditionally attractive but he considered himself handsome enough and he filled out a suit quite nicely. He stepped into the ship, closing the door as the silence settled around him. He straightened out his black suit jacket, his eyes darting around the room as he squinted through the shadows.  
“Doctor?” he called, stealing a few steps inside.

The atmosphere of the whole ship was off. The darkness was strange enough but a feeling in the air told him that something was wrong. It set his nerves on edge. The Master stepped forward and slowly approached the raised platform that the console rested on. His shoes knocked softly against the glass as he walked but even that muted noise seemed terribly disruptive. He stopped when he reached the console, a very faint hum of life at it’s core, but he couldn’t see the Doctor. He felt him before he saw him.  
“Doctor?” he asked again, his nerves shaking his voice slightly.  
“Master,” a low, smooth voice replied, causing the Master’s hearts to pound.

He could feel breath hot on the back of his neck. With minor hesitation, he whipped around to face him. He was little more than a silhouette, leaning against the console with a poise that was uncharacteristic for his current incarnation. His arms were at his sides, his fingers gripping the underbelly of the console for meager support.  
“Hello…” the Master said in his new, silky baritone.  
“Nice of you to join the party,” he replied with a smirk in his voice as he looked up at the Master.

The lack of light made it difficult to see his face but there was a glint in his eyes that the Master thought he would never see there. It wasn’t a spark of hope or adventure or even joy; the glint was the product of something far more menacing. He’d seen it plenty of times before when he looked in the mirror.  
“You’re different,” he managed, holding himself calmly while on the inside he was anything but.  
“So are you,” the Doctor replied, sweeping his floppy hair from his eyes. “Ginger, I see. I’m certainly jealous,  
“I didn’t mean physically,” the Master replied, stepping backward.  
“Mm.”

The Doctor smiled. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew. It was a smile that caused the hair on the Master’s arms to stand on end and he knew it wouldn’t reach those tainted eyes. No happiness could’ve been found in it. It was colder and harsher than an Antarctic blizzard.  
“What happened to you?” he asked, unable to work through how he felt about the change.

The Doctor shot up, standing straight and strong. His bearing made his lanky body seem like a brick wall. He turned to face him, the soft light the TARDIS emitted revealing his features. His eyes were sunken and dark, as if his pupils were fully dilated. His hair shadowed his face ominously, bathing everything from his nose up in shadow. He wore a crisp, white button-down that was blinding and partially untucked. His bow tie was black and his matching suspenders swung limp around his thighs. His skin was sallow and pale, like aged paper. The Master wasn’t sure if he was the Doctor anymore.  
“What happened?” he laughed hollowly. “I could ask you the same thing.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It’s not important anymore.”

The Doctor lowered his head, staring down at the console. He reached out to touch it but curled his fingers back in hesitation. His hair blocked his face from view but the Master could feel the pain radiating from him like heat. It was so thick it was almost tangible. He appeared to be warring with himself, scared of how the TARDIS would react to his touch. Finally, he uncurled his fingers and rested his hand tenderly on the closest control panel. The central column lit up like a raging flame from the contact, blinding the Time Lords and painting the room white. As soon as he removed his hand, the light returned to its dim, fireside glow.

The Doctor refused to talk; he didn’t want to tell him what happened so the Master resolved to extract it from him. He grabbed the Doctor’s face in his hands, pulling it up so that they were looking each other in the eye. The Master frowned, staring into the Doctor’s coal eyes and finding little of his Doctor. The Doctor, however, was trapped in the Master’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if they were green or blue or grey but they held him captive. It took the Doctor a few moments to realize what the Master was doing but by then it was too late. The Master closed his eyes in concentration as the Doctor fought against his hold.

The Doctor clawed at the Master’s arms, trying to pull them away but failed. He was in a weakened state as the Master sifted through his mind. His thoughts were muddled, dark, and self-deprecating. It wasn’t his thoughts he was interested in; it was his memories. He searched for what pushed him over the edge. It didn’t require much effort. The memories sat at the front of his mind for easy access. The Doctor did love to berate himself for past mistakes.

Upon opening the memories, he saw a montage of every last companion he’d ever traveled with. It started out fast, flying through each with sickening speed. He caught a name every once in a while. Susan, Jo, Sarah Jane, Adric, Ace, Grace, but it slowed down as his more recent companions started to appear. Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, and Rory. It was more than he cared to see but he knew he needed to see it.

He felt what the Doctor felt through every adventure. They started out with joy and excitement but as he became more involved with each companion, more deeply ingrained in their lives, it turned to sadness, pain, guilt, and regret. Each emotion was so overwhelming that it ripped the breath from him. He’d never felt such emotions before, he wasn’t the type, and after that experience he knew why. The feelings were awful and why the Doctor kept forcing them upon himself, he would never know.

Then he saw another woman. She wasn’t a companion but she was important. A mass of curly hair sat atop her head as she wore a seductive smile and knowing eyes that only saw the Doctor. Strangely enough, the Doctor returned those feelings and his love for her grew as each memory of her passed. A pang of jealousy ran through him but was forgotten as a crushing sadness overpowered it towards the end of his memories. Tears formed in his eyes from the Doctor’s emotions as he watched the woman he loved die for him. He couldn’t handle the emotions; they were leaking through the connection, forcing him to pull back.

He staggered backward, attempting to sort the Doctor’s feelings from his own. They were melted together, making him unsure of what he actually felt. The Doctor threw the Master’s arms away from him, stepping back into the console. They stared at each other for a moment, both confused for different reasons.

“You do this to yourself, Doctor,” the Master sneered, regaining his composure. “You play with all of these tiny, fragile humans and you get so upset when you break them or when they get lost. Or when they leave you because they’re tired of being thrown around carelessly by a cosmic nine-year-old. They’re specks of dust in the universe. Really, Doctor, you shouldn’t get so sentimental.”

The Doctor’s face cycled through a range of expressions at the Master’s words. It began with surprise then switched to sadness then anger and ended in a peculiar expression of realization. The Doctor smiled, malicious amusement dancing in his eyes. It threw the Master off guard.  
“You’re jealous,” he said stealing a step toward the other Time Lord.  
“What?” he asked in disbelief while standing his ground.  
“You are! You’re jealous. You do know that the connection works both ways, right? I could feel it,” he teased.

The Doctor strode into the Master’s personal space, their faces only inches from each other. The Master tried to back up but there was nowhere to go. The Doctor reached up and the Master flinched just enough to be noticeable, cursing himself for it after the fact. The Doctor touched his curls, playing with them like a curious child before grabbing a fistful of them. He pulled the Master toward him to close the gap.

The Doctor’s lips crashed against the Master’s roughly, forcing him into a kiss. The Master’s eyes widened in panic as he struggled against the Doctor’s grip. His hands found the Doctor’s shoulders and dug his fingers into them. This action only encouraged the Doctor as he pressed himself up against the Master, wedging one of his legs in between his. The Master tightened his grip on the Doctor’s shoulders and forced him off, pushing him away with all of the force he could muster. The Doctor stumbled backward, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  
“What are you doing!?” The Master asked, unsure if he actually wanted to stop.

The Doctor stared at him with an animalistic look in his eyes. They appeared darker, as if his pupils had somehow managed to expand even further than before. He gazed at the Master the way a lion would view its prey.  
“Shut up and kiss me,” he growled.

He grabbed the lapels of the Master’s jacket and pulled him back into the kiss. Without waiting to see if he would accept, he forced the Master’s mouth open with his tongue, burying his fingers in his ginger curls. The Master reciprocated this time, grinding his body against the Doctor’s. The Doctor moved one of his hands down the back of the Master’s head, wrapping it around his neck.

The Master choked on air as his fingers tightened, restricting his windpipe. The Doctor pushed the Master away from him by his neck and threw him into the console. He hit the controls hard with his back, attempting to right himself but the Doctor wouldn’t let him. He grabbed his neck again, pinning him to the console panel as he pushed himself between the Master’s legs. He leaned over him and kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip with enough force to make it bleed. He pulled away, leaving the Master wanting more as a drop of blood dripped down his chin. The Doctor stared down at him with harsh, black eyes and a smirk on his lips.  
“So, _Master_ , who’s the master now?”  
Breathless and hungry, he eagerly replied with what he wanted to hear. “You are.”


End file.
